Living With What You Have
by HarryLurvsMarsBars
Summary: Was there more behind Calleigh's tears? Takes place after 7.25
1. Chapter 1

**So for the first time in a long time, I plan to make this a multi-chapter story instead of being lazy and writing little one-shots. Review, por favor!**

She wasn't ten feet from the Hummer when the first hot tear trailed down her horror-flushed cheeks. Soon following was a sob, but it caught stubbornly in her throat, refusing to sound. She tried to concentrate on the soft padding of her stilettos above the slightly damp grass. Tried to stop the tears, the sobs, but to no avail. She was breaking down.

Horatio Caine knew that Calleigh Duquesne did not cry-in public, at least. He watched her retreating figure walk slowly towards the county vehicle, then slump slightly, her shoulders shaking. He didn't need to see her face to know that it was probably streaked with tears. Seeing Calleigh lose control, her walls down and kick-ass attitude replaced with extreme despair, broke his heart even more than it already had for Eric. He wanted to do something for her, comfort her, but he knew that the one person who could do just that was only God knows where.

Still, as he observed her, something was off…besides the obvious, anyway. She had been somewhat pale for a couple of days now, and was eating very little. She had passed it off as a small case of the flu-it was going around the lab after all. Hmm. Yes, something was off.

***

Calleigh finally made it to the Hummer, to secluded quiet and tinted windows, where no one could see her drain all emotion through her eyes. When most of the tears had stopped, she raised her head off the steering wheel, sniffing, and pulled down the mirror to observe her face.

Physically and emotionally, she looked drained. Her eyes were a striking aqua; a color she knew only resulted from crying, or, in this case, bawling. Dark bags sunk under her eyes and black streaks of mascara marked the tear tracks proudly. On top of it all, the muggy heat, enhanced by the swampy terrain and her black suit, was causing her to sweat horribly.

When she was positive that her vision would not be impaired by water, she turned the key and drove slightly – okay, more than slightly – over the legal limit down the worn dirt road, eager to get home. It took her nearly three hours to do so, after making a stop at the lab to pick up her car, but the soccer moms' mini-vans and many expensive shopping centers of Bal Harbor were a welcome sight. Home at last.

Pulling into the driveway sloppily, she slammed the door of her off-duty car and hurried inside with unexplained giddiness. As soon as she entered the kitchen, the instinctive first place to go, she thought about what would be going on in here on a normal evening. She would her him humming some random tune to himself, busying naturally around posts and pans as wonderful Latin aromas wafted from them. He would smile and walk to her, to impatient for her to come to him, and lean in for their custom welcome-home kiss: three slow presses and occasionally the swipe of a tongue, which led to bigger and better things.

But since this was not a normal evening, there was no humming, no delicious food, and most definitely no Eric. Coming out of her reverie, the giddiness left her body as her brain realized this fact with difficulty. No Eric? How could there be no Eric? Eric was always there…

The suddenly all-too-familiar prick of tears behind her eyes made her remember her original intentions for home: shower, book, tea…that. Calleigh sighed, grabbing a glass of water for good measure. It had been a long day.

The hot spray of water had been a very welcomed relief. Now, in loose pajama pants and tank top, Calleigh dug in the basket in the furthest, darkest corner of the cabinets under the sink and pulled out the purplish-pink box she had bought on her way home from work a couple of days ago. After using the toilet, she sat the test ton top of the counter and passed the three long minutes by finding her favorite Elmer Kelton book and turning back the bed before returning to the bathroom.

She knew. Had known for nearly a week. She just needed this confirmation. Calleigh's first thought was to toss it in the trash; but she knew that in the morning she would need the proof. Leaving it on the counter, she returned to bed, forgetting entirely the hot tea and book lying welcomingly on the bedside table.

As she hugged his pillow, his scent now part of the fabric, she said a prayer for the fist time in a long time. _Dear God, please, please bring him back to me. I need him. We both need him…_

**AN: Sooooo. Thoughts, feedback, praise, hate, whatever, just review please! **


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all I would like to thank all of y'all that reviewed: I've never gotten so many for one chapter ever! I hope this chapter suits you all as well as the first. Keep 'em coming people…Please!**

The next morning started early for Calleigh: 1:00 a.m. to be exact, when she was awakened by a bout of vomit. Rushing to the bathroom, she barely pulled her hair back in time before she emptied her stomach contents from the last forty-eight hours – which consisted of very little – into the toilet.

As she sat up slowly, trembling, her thoughts mercilessly landed once again on Eric. Pouring herself a glass of water, Calleigh couldn't help but feel some resentment towards him, reminiscing two nights previous when about this time she was experiencing same symptoms. True, he had held back her hair and soothed her as she threw up, but Calleigh couldn't believe that he had bought that flu crap. Perhaps it was unfair of her to think that, considering that they had tried to be as careful as possible, but she couldn't help it. Deep down, she had to admit that part of this was her fault. She had had the perfect opportunity to inform him of her suspicions, but she didn't; had lied to him as easily as he had lied to her.

After brushing her teeth, and as she was settling back into bed, a new thought struck her: Had she told him, would he be lying here beside her, _his_ large bronze hand caressing her stomach rather than her small pale one? Would he be kissing her to sleep, rather than nursing his own wounds…wherever he was? For the countless time, Calleigh felt a couple of tears roll down her cheek before willing them away. For the sake of her child, this little being inside of her that she already loved beyond her own life, she had to remain healthy and at least somewhat relaxed. Pretending her own arms clasped around her midriff were Eric's, she snuggled into his pillow and attempted to sleep.

*****

The first peek of the sun's rays poked at the curtained windows of the van in which Eric was lying lifelessly in the back of. As he aroused sluggishly, a slow, yet very present, throbbing issued throughout his body. His brain would not cooperate in remembering the events leading up to this until he had regained full consciousness; all he remembered was a lot of pain, darkness, and now a sudden urge to escape from the musty back seat.

Which would be so much easier if not for the duct tape around his wrists, ankles, and mouth.

Suddenly his CSI instincts decided to kick in, and he began to search for some kind of sharp corner to break his confinements. His eyes scanned the area for a moment before he found what he was looking for. A jagged edge protruding near the door, which served an unknown purpose, was the perfect object. His first attempt to sit up fully was deterred by a shooting pain in his right tricep. He gasped and strained his head to look at the wound. Through his ripped shirt he could see welts and bruises which, he realized painfully, covered the vast majority of his body. Highly doubting that these were the cause of such pain he searched further up his arm to quickly find a gash about ¼ of an inch deep and three inches long. The memory of how he had obtained this injury, however, was pristine: Calleigh. Calleigh's bullet. He had been speeding away from the horrific scene when suddenly a bullet had whizzed through the windshield and grazed his arm. Eric had been sure that Calleigh had not meant to hit him, no matter how angry she was, and was positive when their eyes met. That look of disbelief, of shock, hurt more than the bullet had. It all had happened so fast, the next thing Eric knew he was crashing the little Audi in the middle of the Everglades at the sound of high-powered firearms and their bullets making loud "pings" ring off the silver car.

As he replayed the events sequentially in his head, new ones started to recur. There were three men, all at least five years younger than him and about fifteen pounds heavier in sheer muscle, which was saying something considering his toned physique. As he was thrown and bound in this very van, their intentions for him became clear. They wanted Horatio, plain and simple, but needed an insider, someone who already had his unwavering trust. Eric refused without hesitation. He couldn't do anything like that to anyone, much less Horatio, his friend, his brother…

This obviously hadn't settled well with the men. One beating and several insults later, they tried a different tactic. Two of the men were sitting in the back with him while the other drove…wherever they were going. One of them opened a briefcase and pulled out a photograph, one from a professional camera, but it was obviously unnoticed by the models: he and Calleigh. More specifically, he and Calleigh kissing outside of her front door. Eric remembered that night. He and Calleigh had gone to dinner and she was wearing one of those "little black dresses" that had his mouth watering for her the moment she had slipped it over her head. It had merely been a couple of nights ago, the same one when she had caught the flu.

Lost in his own world, he was brought out of it by the realization that these devils knew about their relationship. And if they had been watching very long, they knew that he would do anything for that woman. God, Calleigh. He prayed over and over that she was okay. Apparently he was so entranced by the thought of her safety that he failed to hear and therefore answer a question.

And now here he was, attempting one of the riskiest things of his life. This time, as he raised himself to a sitting position, he tried to put the majority of his weight on his left arm.

Right as he began to move to the pointed object, there was a loud snore that definitely didn't come from him. Straining his neck to see the front of the vehicle, Eric saw his captors resting beside boxes of guns that he couldn't identify off the top of his head. He knew enough about them, however, to know that he would not live to remember their official title if he was hit by one.

Mindful to move slowly so as not to rock the van, Eric scooted slowly to the object, trying to at least puncture a hole in the tape, but was more successful and ripped the entire binding. Without hesitation he quietly removed the silver tape from his lips and ankles before finally testing the back door. Miraculously, it was unlocked.

With a final look at the men, Eric considered taking the guns, but they were too close to them, and it would make too much noise. He instead opted for one of their personal hand guns lying about three feet from Eric. Tucking it into the waistband of his pants, Eric stepped out of the van and softly shut the door, hoping with all his might that his captors were heavy sleepers. For some of the most dangerous people in the world, these in particular weren't very smart.

Looking at his surroundings for the first time, he knew exactly where he was when his feet hit soft sand and heard the crashing waves of the sea. The sound of the water was lulling him into a sense of familiarity; the ocean had always been his haven. He also knew that the salt water would be useful to clean the grazer on his arm, but he couldn't risk it. He needed to get out of here, fast.

There was beach for as far as he could see in both directions, and about 100 yards inland was a forest-like area. He chose this place to run, where he could have a clear view of the tire tracks that the tide had not washed away, and possibly find a road. Eric sprinted as fast as he could to the brush.

Once inside, his pace went to something between a jog and a sprint. Eric kept up the speed for about fifteen minutes, guessing he had covered roughly two and a half miles. Not much compared to what the Russians could cover in their van, especially since he was running through trees instead of flat land. Still, between the little light of dawn and the shadows of the trees, he had somewhat of an advantage.

Suddenly he heard the revving of and old engine and angry yelling in Russian. Shit. He hadn't any way to cover his footprints. Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on one's take of things – for him, Eric knew exactly what they were saying.

"Find him! If you see him, kill him!"

And so the games began.

**AN: So I know that if Eric was captured by the mob, the chances of them falling asleep, with guns and the doors unlocked, are, like, zero. But hey, this is fanFICTION! Anything is possible if you just believe! Oh yeah, review **угождать**! (that's please in Russian.) Corny, I know. Um, sorry; excuse my rambling!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I own nothing from CSI Miami, it's all CBS's, please review, blah blah blah.**

Loud piercing gun shots, angry Russian (and English) swear words, and a roaring engine created a not-so-harmonious symphony to the early morning on the beach. Eric ran as fast as he could through tree roots, low-lying branches, and the occasional animal or swarm of gnats. He was exhausted, and his speed was gradually decreasing as he trekked further. Had he not taken a beating by three very strong grown men so recently, he could go on for miles.

But that wasn't the case, and Eric was sure it was only a matter of time before he collapsed. The gunshot wound on his arm was stinging horribly from the sweat, and his chest was aching, an unfamiliar sensation.

Just as he was about to give up entirely, the engine and shots stopped. Despite the protests from his body, Eric continued. The hundred-pound weight on his chest lifted slightly: had they given up? He allowed his legs to slow down a bit, but kept his guard up. Just because they weren't trailing him on wheels didn't mean they weren't on foot.

Suddenly a bullet zoomed inches from his head, and Eric immediately started sprinting again. Glancing behind his shoulder, the first thing that met Eric's eyes was two of the three burly men, right on his tail.

And the next was damp dirt and blades of dew-soaked grass.

Damnit he was the dumbest person on the face of the earth. How the hell could he trip? All of his efforts from the past thirty minutes were wasted. Two pairs of hands grabbed him under the arms and heaved Eric to his feet. Between his labored breathing and the dirt and grass on one side of his face, he must have been a sight; a ridiculous sight. His hands were once again bound behind his back, and the Russians threw him roughly to the ground. One of them spat on him and spoke to him in a heavily accented voice.

"You stupid thing," the man growled. "Try to pull a fast one on us, hm?" He kicked Eric in the hip to turn him over. Eric winced at the pain; it wasn't broken, but the bone was definitely bruised.

The other man, who had watched the transaction with his arms crossed and dark eyes downcast, pulled out a small folded photograph and shoved it under Eric's nose. It was of Calleigh. Like the other photo, she was oblivious to the camera. The one holding the picture spoke this time.

"Our orders were to kill you as soon as we caught you," he informed. "But we are giving you another chance." Eric looked up at the man with a look of pure hatred. "Like we told you yesterday, we know about this little romance between the two of you. If you don't give us Caine in the next week, your little bitch is dead. Understood?"

Eric's heavy breathing, which had subsided slightly, picked up once again.

"And if I still refuse?"

"Then you're both gone," the first man said. An evil grin spread over his thin lips. "And you will watch her go."

Eric took three deep breaths before giving his answer.

"Fine," he said harshly. "I'll do it." The thought of watching Calleigh die was the worst torture anyone could ever put him through. Admittedly, his decision was extremely selfish, but what were his options? Either way there was an extremely high possibility that someone would die, a guarantee that he, Eric, would if he refused.

The Russians nodded. Picking him up by the arms once again, they stepped out of the forest and began walking the direction they came from. One whistled and the van engine started, driving towards them about fifty yards away. Eric was somewhat confused. He would have bet that they would make him find his own way back. The man with the photograph must have read his puzzled look. "We will take you as far as Key Largo. Form there you are on your own."

A bumpy ninety mintues later, they were pulling into a service station. The man to the left of Eric shoved him from the spacious back to the middle, and then the driver reached behind him to open the left passenger door. He was then given a brown grocery sack and ordered to exit the van.

"Delko!"

The rough voice halted him. He turned his gaze to the back seat.

"If you say a word to anyone, not only will your girlfriend by dead, but your family, also. Caine's, too. And don't try anything; we have monitors, human and technical."

Eric's jaw twitched. With a nod he stepped out of the van.

As soon as he was out, the car was gone, and Eric was left alone standing about ten feet from the entrance of the store. On the left side of the station were a couple of truckers filling up, and on the right was a family of six making a pit stop; they seemed to be on a road trip. He observed them for a moment: A mom, dad, preteen, third-grader, two-year-old, and baby. All children were girls except the third-grader. While the preteen and toddler cooed over the baby, he quietly played his PSP. Eric chuckled. He knew how the little boy felt, surrounded by girls all the time.

Meanwhile the toddler dug in her little travel knapsack before emerging victoriously with a drawing, and cried, "Daddy, daddy, look what I drawed!" The father, who was leaning against the bumper, smiled and caught the girl as she jumped into his arms. "See what I drawed? That's you and me and it say to Daddy love Lizzie."

Eric could only watch in longing. He desperately wanted someone to call him "Daddy", to run into his arms after a long day at work, to draw him pictures and tell him that he was loved. With the way things were going with Calleigh, though, kids were probably not in his near future.

The father caught his eye and gave him a brief smile, clutching his daughter into a hug. Eric, embarrassed, slipped behind the building to see what was in the bag.

It was his personal effects: his suit jacket, wallet, pocket knife, phone, badge, and gun. Knowing he looked a mess, Eric ducked into the restroom, washed his face and slipped on his jacket before entering the store.

It was empty except for a trucker, the mom, and the store owner. Eric knew what he needed: rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, ACE bandage, food, and water. Grabbing his supplies and paying, Eric hastily went outside to try and figure how he was going to get out of here.

The family had gone, but he noticed the trucker that had been in the store with him sitting in front of an empty parking space on the right side of the building. Eric sat on the left and ate his club sandwich and water quickly, not realizing how hungry he was until this moment.

Finishing his meal, Eric went to the toilet then cleaned the wound, hoping that it hadn't already gotten infected, and then wrapped the ACE bandage around it. When he exited the bathroom, he saw the trucker heading towards his truck. The man seemed nice enough, and probably wouldn't try anything when Eric flashed his badge.

"Sir…sir!"

The trucker turned at Eric's voice and smiled.

"Where you headed, young man?"

Eric was rather surprised. He wondered if this happened often, and showed the man his badge.

"Miami," he answered. "I work as a police officer there."

"Well Mr.…?"

"Eric. Eric Delko."

"Mr. Eric, you're in luck," the man said jovially. "I just happen to be passing through Miami. Need a ride?"

Eric sighed, relieved. "If it's not too much trouble."

"None at all. Hop in."

Minutes later they were speeding along the rather empty highway/bridge, and Eric was attempting small talk.

"So," he began. "You never told me your name."

"Lewis Cockrell," he answered. "Call me Lou."

Eric nodded slowly. "Well, Lou, do you have a family?"

Lou shook his head. "Nah. The Mrs. left me eight years ago and took my baby boy to boot."

Eric nodded again, was about to say how hard it must be to be away from his son for so long, but Lou intervened. "How 'bout you? Fine young man like yourself ought to have a wife, kids," he glanced sideways at Eric. "Uh, partner?"

Eric laughed. "No kids. But a girlfriend, who is my partner. I'm also a CSI. We work together."

Lou raised his eyebrows in approval. "But no family?"

"No offspring," Eric corrected. "But family, yes. A lot of it, actually." He tried not to think that that number could, in time, be reduced if he wasn't careful.

Eric wasn't exactly sure why he was telling this stranger such personally information, but he was, nevertheless, and the hour-long ride to Miami pushed the hell he had been through to the back of his mind. There was, however, only one person who could make him completely forget, and she was approximately fifteen minutes away if she was at work.

When Lou dropped Eric off at the outskirts of downtown Miami, Eric thanked him greatly. Not exactly sure how the whole hitch hiking thing worded, Eric offered to pay Lou for his troubles, but he profoundly refused ("I ain't no stinkin' cab!") and drove away with a final goodbye.

To get to the lab, Eric actually did take a cab. Upon arrival, Eric rushed to his car, which was parked where it had been two days ago, and hoped no one had seen him. And when he was finally settled behind tinted windows, he turned on his phone and dialed Horatio's number at last.

**AN: So I was debating on whether or not to split this into two chapters and in the end I'm glad I didn't. Okay, and now I have some news. Last night we had some terrible storms and a couple of tornados, and one passed through our town and knocked all of our power off for like, 12 hours. So I wrote this chapter and the next by hand, so please review and make my efforts worthwhile!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the wait. It's now 12:30 at night (or is it morning) and I just now have time to type. Please read. I apologize in advance for my lack of technique involving dialogue.**

Horatio sat in the chair behind his office desk, head sunk in his hands wearily. Anyone who was anyone in the Miami-Dade Crime Lab knew that Horatio Caine did not show any emotion to make someone think even for an instant that he was tired. The glass walls of his office, however, did not offer much privacy from the outside world. The only other place for him to go and not be bothered was the bathroom, and that just didn't sound very appealing for some reason or another. Two days; _two_ days he had been gone. No trace, no evidence, nothing that even gave him as to clue as to where Eric might be.

And yes, it was taking a toll on him.

Two people were watching this minor scene with difficulty, but with fascination. Never had Horatio shown so much stress.

"You think he's finally met his match with these people?" Ryan Wolfe asked Calleigh. This defeated man was not his boss that he, Ryan, had come to know. Calleigh put on her best "what are you talking about" face and replied. "What people?"

Ryan huffed a humorless chuckle. "Cal, come on. You know who."

Calleigh turned her attention to the red-head a few yards in front of her. "Maybe so," she whispered, "but I'd rather not." Her hand gently grazed her stomach before dropping to her side once more. "I can't imagine the hell they've put Eric through these past couple days."

Ryan heard the crack in her voice, and didn't know how to reply other than, "Are you alright, Calleigh?"

A quick smirk passed over her mouth, but vanished almost as soon as it appeared, and her lips opted to glue together in a painful purse. "No."

"Cal…" he began, but cut off when her posture suddenly straightened as she watched her boss sit up in his chair, eyes widen at the screen of his phone, and press the device quickly to his ear. Catching their inquisitive, alert eyes, he turned his chair to the window, away from the two CSI's. Ryan and Calleigh's wide eyes met. Was it Eric, or mobsters? Either way, the conversation was short, and when it was over, Horatio turned back to his desk and began fidgeting with his phone. He appeared to be internally debating something.

The anticipation, waiting for Horatio to call them over to give them news, became too much for Calleigh, and she crossed the hall and burst unexpectedly into his office.

"Horatio," she said quietly, a tone quite the opposite of her demeanor. "What was that about?"

Horatio glanced up at her. "Come in, Ms. Duquesne."

Calleigh sighed exasperatedly and stepped inside fully, shutting the door behind her. "So?"

"He's alive," Horatio answered simply.

Calleigh let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and a true, genuine smile crossed her features. She noticed Horatio's nervous expression, however, and it faltered just slightly. "But?"

Horatio sighed. "He's beaten up pretty bad, and needs medical attention, but I'm sure you've figured out at this point why he can't go to a hospital. I told him to call Alexx ASAP. He's heading home now."

Calleigh nodded. Now she was absolutely positive that bullet had hit him. But what was the extent of the wound, and what else had been done to him?

Horatio interrupted her thoughts. "Go home. You need some rest." Any other day Calleigh would have refused but, unbeknownst to Horatio, her home was Eric's home, which meant that she could finally, _finally_ see him. She had to see him, _needed_ to see him with her own eyes.

With another nod and a whispered, "Thank you," she was out the door.

*****

the ride home was the longest Calleigh had ever experienced. When she pulled into the driveway, his car on its typical right side, her nerves surprisingly reached a new high, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering madly.

Speaking of things in her stomach…

The mere thought of telling Eric she was pregnant worried her beyond belief. Sure, they had talked about having kids, and he made it very clear that he wanted them, but…she was thinking later. Much later. As in marriage, later.

She took a deep breath and unbuckled her seat belt, trying to push all worries out of her head. She needed to be strong for Eric. Grabbing her purse and keys, Calleigh stepped out of her Chrysler and walked quickly to the front door.

As soon as she opened to it, he was there to meet her. Neither would ever be sure who lunged first, but one moment blue eyes were connected to brown and the next their lips were devouring one another's. One would have thought they had been apart for two years rather than two days, they were kissing so passionately.

Eric pulled Calleigh inside the house only to push her onto the door, hands traveling up her body to tangle in her hair. Calleigh's belongings lay forgotten at her feet as her small pale hands moved from the hard planes of his chest to his rough, unshaven cheeks. He nibbled on her lower lip teasingly, and immediately Calleigh's knees weakened. As much as she hated the fact that Eric could do that to her with such a simple action, she loved even more when he wrapped his deliciously strong arms around her waist to hold her steady. In the meantime, Calleigh moved her hands once more, right where his gunshot would was. Eric winced and gasped slightly, hoping she would pass it off as a gasp of pleasure. No such luck. Calleigh reluctantly tore her lips away from his and looked at his arm, emitting a gasp of her own.

"Eric," she breathed. All pleasure dissipated from her body and was replaced with deep concern. "What happened?"

Eric sighed. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable."

He led her by the hand to the couch, pulling Calleigh into his lap. Calleigh resisted. "Me in your lap isn't going to help the pain I'm sure you're in."

Eric shook his head. "I need you Cal, even if that means just holding you. Please don't fight. I've been doing that for nearly sixty hours."

Calleigh's tense body relaxed slightly and she leaned into his chest, felling his arms wrap snugly around her still-slim frame. "Now tell me what happened, starting with your arm."

Eric glanced at his bicep. Since being home, he had showered into an Adidas track suit, minus the jacket because of the summer heat, which left him in the white shirt and matching blue and white wind pants. He sighed again. "Nothing. It happened earlier today."

Calleigh raised her head, placing a hand on his cheek in order for his eyes to meet hers. "Haven't we lied to each other enough, Eric?" It wasn't an accusatory question, but more of a statement. "It was my bullet, wasn't it?"

Eric's eyes averted hers once more before nodding. This was the last thing he wanted to be talking about. Hell, he didn't even want to be talking; he wanted to be making sweet, passionate love to her, to forget everything that had happened for a couple of secluded hours.

"Cal, I can't tell you anything about what went down these past couple of days. Not if I want you, or anyone I love, for that matter, to get hurt. And by hurt, I mean killed." He shuddered at the thought.

She stroked his cheek lovingly. "I'll be fine, Eric."

Eric shook his head, holding on to her a little tighter. "I can't, Calleigh. If I tell you, they'll find out. They're absolutely everywhere. So, I can't…I just can't."

Calleigh took a deep breath and knew that it was now or never. She had to tell him before he did something even more stupid and noble. "Hey," she began, a small smile on her lips. "You better cheer up, or _you're_ going to hurt me and…a special someone."

Eric eyed her inquisitively before grumbling, "What special someone?"

Calleigh placed a hand over her stomach. "Our special someone."

Eric's eyes flitted back and forth; stomach, eyes, stomach, eyes, before it finally registered in his brain. "Cal," he breathed. "You don't have the flu, do you?"

Calleigh giggled, a tear slipping down her cheek, shaking her head. "No. No, I don't."

She leaned in and kissed him slowly once, twice, a third time before pulling away, glancing at the clock. "Alexx will be here and minute," she reminded, wiping the tears away.

Eric nodded, and gazed upon her with a new eye. She wouldn't be this small in a short amount of time, and it was all because of him. "I can't believe you're pregnant," he said softly, kissing her cheek. Calleigh smiled and voiced her agreement before frantic knocking at the door interrupted her. Calleigh kissed him one more time before answering the door.

Immediately Alexx entered the house, knowing she didn't need to be invited in, especially in this situation.

"Hey baby," she greeted Calleigh with a hug. "Where's my patient?"

An hour later Alexx had Eric stitched and patched up, and had confirmed that the gun wound, while the most severe of his wounds, it was miraculously not infected. She had then given him some a prescription for pain reliever, that was probably going to become his new best friend over the next couple of days, then left with promises of seeing them soon.

Now Eric and Calleigh were lying peacefully in bed together, Calleigh's head on his chest and Eric stroking her hair gently. Calleigh suddenly chuckled.

"What?"

"I just realized something," she explained.

"Oh?" Eric inquired curiously. "And what might that be?"

"When Horatio told me to go home, he knew that you would be here. He knows."

Eric chuckled slightly himself. "Yeah, well, it was only a matter of time. Nothing stays a secret from that man very long."

"Agreed."

There was a moment of silence before Eric spoke again.

"I'm sorry, Cal."

Calleigh raised her head to look him in the eye. "For what?"

"Everything," he answered. "For lying, for disappearing, for causing everyone so much trouble, for getting you knocked up…"

"Eric, you didn't get me 'knocked up,'" she insisted. She grabbed his hand and placed it over her stomach. "We're in this together."

Eric slipped his hand under her shirt and caressed the skin softly, sighing. "I know. It's just; I know you wanted to wait."

"We can't change what's been done," Calleigh said softly. "And I would do just that for anything in the world. I mean, if we had waited as long as I had planned, my biological clock would have been down to its last seconds."

Eric failed to see the humor in her little joke. "Still."

Calleigh sighed, frustrated. "Let me put it this way." She strained her neck to place a kiss right below his chin. "In all thirty-six years of my life, I've never been happier." Eric smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead.

And as they drifted off, Calleigh realized a few other things: he was here, beside her; his large hand was splayed across her abdomen; he was raining kisses in her hair; and she had her real pillow back. She had _him_ back.

Now if she could just keep him here.

**AN: So I have some serious thinking to do, since as of this point I'm not exactly sure how to continue. Oh, and I would like to point out that I wanted to do more interaction will Alexx, but she will be back (I think). Review por favor!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay people, I would just like to say that I am now a…beta-reader! I don't know if that matters to any of you or not, just throwing it out there. Sorry about the long wait; writer's block! Enjoy.**

Eric and Calleigh's night had been long and rough; between Calleigh's bouts of sickness and Eric's nightmares, neither of them got much decent sleep. Every time he closed his eyes the smell of guns and body odor and dirt met his nose, and the harsh faces of his kidnappers appeared in front of the black of his closed eyelids. When he fell asleep his dreams were plagued with memories of the past two-and-a-half days and more, which was the worst of it all. Calleigh, with hands over a full belly and a terrified expression on her face as brutish men closed in on her with guns, knives, clubs…

Eric's eyes shot open, brow covered in a cold sweat, chest heaving. He rolled to his opposite side to wrap his arm around Calleigh and buried his face in her hair, breathing in her sweet scent and running a gentle hand over her warm, very alive, arm. Waiting for his heart to return to its normal _thump-thump_, _thump-thump_; he slowly rose out of bed.

The clock on the bathroom wall said that it was just past five in the morning, informing him that it was merely two hours later than his last trip in this room. Eric dampened a cloth with cool water and dabbed his forehead tenderly, trying to convince himself that it was just a dream. He wiped the cloth over his face swiftly before laying it half-in-half-out of the sink and returning to bed.

Calleigh had changed positions since he left; almost completely on her back, turned just slightly to hug his pillow. Eric smiled and gently pried the pillow from her grasp. Climbing back in, he lay on his side to watch her sleep, a habit he had picked up early on in their relationship, and something he hadn't found worthwhile before her. He allowed his eyes to wander over her slender (for now) figure, starting at her beautiful, fair face. Blonde hair was splayed over her won pillow – he wondered briefly when she had last used her own pillow – but didn't bother to dwell on it for now, and continued to gaze at her.

Though closed, he could see her piercing sea-colored eyes, boring a hole straight through him, a suspect, the team members, anyone who dared to cross her path. But in an instant those same intense eyes could turn into kind, sweet, and sympathetic orbs. He always found her ability to go from tough girl to kind woman amazing.

His gaze followed the lines of her jaw and slender neck, the last traces of bruises and marks –left by him, ironically – hardly visible in the darkness. Eyes traveled further still to her respectably-sized C-cup breasts and thought with a smile how those would change soon as well. Finally his stare landed on her abdomen.

A sudden urge to do something, something completely out of his norm, overtook him like a wave. He was about ninety-nine percent sure that he was going to feel absolutely ridiculous doing this, but he just had to. Making sure that Calleigh was at least relatively sound asleep, he scooted down so that his face was level with her stomach. Taking a deep breath, he gently pulled aside the sheet so that her tank-clad stomach was exposed to him.

"Hi," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't think you can hear me, since you don't have ears yet, but I guess I wanted to let you know; I'm your papi. I helped make you."

He was answered with silence, and he gave a small huff and a smile. "My name is Eric. Your mama's name is Calleigh. Everyone calls her Cal, though."

His whispers filled the night for a good fifteen more minutes. His conclusion was spoken as softly as his fingertips were brushing over her stomach.

"I think we'll be speaking again soon."

***

By nine o' clock Eric was showered and dressed while Calleigh, who had been given the day off, was unusually still sleeping. He left her a note on the nightstand explaining that he was meeting Horatio at the diner a few blocks away from the lab and that he would be back shortly.

He took his off-duty car and was not surprised to find Horatio there fifteen minutes before their set time, 10:00. He walked into the bustling place and easily spotted Horatio's crop of wispy red hair. He moved casually to his boss and sat across from him. Typically, Horatio was twirling his sunglasses between his fingertips, and at Eric's arrival, his grim expression turned upward in an inevitable grin at the sight of him.

"I hate to ask you," he began in typical Horatio fashion, "but how are you feeling?"

Eric chuckled. "I don't think you want to know, exactly, either," he said, ordering a coffee upon the arrival of the waitress. "I, uh, need to talk to you about some things that are beyond my own health."

Horatio nodded, dumping a pack of sugar into his own coffee. "Okay."

Eric took a deep breath. "H, I'm not going to beat around the bush here," he said gravely. "They want you. You're the only thing, in their mind, that can stop them from dominating Miami. When they told me this, I thought for sure that they were going to keep me as bribery, but they didn't. I don't know what they're up to beyond this, but I'm through with it all."

Once again Horatio nodded. "Did they give you time?"

"A week. And no hint as to where them might by."

Horatio took a minute to digest this. "Eric, this is our top priority right now. I don't want you working this for IAB purposes. I want every available team member at the lab." He stopped for a second to gather his thoughts. "Okay?"

Eric opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, actually achieving words this time. "That's not possible, Horatio."

His boss glanced up at him with a slight look of disbelief then raised his eyebrows at his coffee. "Eric-"

"She's pregnant, H," Eric interrupted. "_We're_ pregnant; me and Cal." He took Horatio's shocked silence as his key to keep going. "There is absolutely no way I am putting her or our child in harm's way. I think you, of all people, can understand that." He paused for a moment. "I'm sorry."

The older man stirred his drink. "I understand. You don't have to apologize."

Eric nodded, taking a gulp of his black coffee. "What are we going to do?"

Not exactly sure which tense he meant in saying that, Horatio gave him the best answer possible. "We're gonna catch them," he said simply. "Come by the lab this evening to tell me everything you can remember and we'll go from there."

Content yet slightly frustrated with the lack of a more hopeful and reassuring answer, he muttered a quick, "Yeah," and put a bill on the table. Draining the rest of his coffee, Eric stood.

"Thank you, H. For everything," he said.

Horatio nodded for the third time with a smile. "No need for thanks, Eric."

As Eric began walking away, Horatio called as best he could over the din. "Eric!"

Eric stopped and looked back at his boss.

"Congratulations."

Eric grinned modestly and turned back to his original direction, suddenly ready to get home to his beautiful, pregnant, pajama-clad girlfriend.

**AN: Yeah, yeah, crappy ending, sorry. I would like to say that another reason chapters are getting out later than normal (and will continue to do so) is because me piece of crap laptop won't let me log on, and now I have to use our office computer with four other people. I'm writing all my chapters by hand and then typing them when I have time. That's also why their so short. Please bear with me. Now it's time to review!**


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